


Raindrops (Daryl Dixon x Reader AU)

by chilldanvers



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), daryl dixon - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Inspired by The Walking Dead, might write another part?, who knows...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:34:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23395603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chilldanvers/pseuds/chilldanvers
Summary: You and Daryl share an intimate moment at the cabin you share. ((inspired by a friends tweet so this is for Rhiannon :))
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/You
Kudos: 25





	Raindrops (Daryl Dixon x Reader AU)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phantasticworks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantasticworks/gifts).



The rain had been falling all morning, steadily pattering against the tin roof of the cabin you and Daryl shared. You laid on your side, just a while longer, watching the rivulets race down the window pane as the gray light crept in.

It was no surprise that when you rolled over, the other half of your bed was empty. Daryl was not one to sleep in. You didn’t mind, though as you untangled yourself from the blankets and slipped on the worn black t-shirt that seemed to be the only thing Daryl owned. While you made your way to the kitchen, you found him outside on the porch, cleaning that precious crossbow of his and smiled. The man was passionate about his weapons and you loved him for it.

He finally turned toward you as the click of the coffee machine rang out and the aroma of the fresh coffee drifted through the cabin. Giving you that signature once over, he smiled at you and turned back to his crossbow. 

You dumped two generous spoonfuls of sugar into one coffee cup and one less generous spoonful into yours. The man was stoic but he did have a bit of a sweet tooth when it came to his coffee. Come to think of it, he really didn’t care for coffee, but because you drank it religiously, he had learned to enjoy the bitter taste, with the help of said sugar and creamer. The machine next you began to sputter, and you grabbed the half full pot, pouring his cup first and then yours. He had a small, plain white cup whereas yours was a huge one with some awful art of Arkansas you found at a local flea market one Saturday afternoon.

You grabbed the two cups and began to make your way over to where he sat on the wooden steps. The air was cool with the smell of rain and a morning breeze. God, you loved it here. You both did. Although you didn’t stay here year round, the time you did get to spend here was treasured. The isolation was exactly what you needed and the woods were where Daryl felt most comfortable.

“Hey.” You said, sliding his mug towards him as you planted yourself on the steps next to him. He mumbled a thanks and leaned over for a short kiss. You wished you could stay in this moment forever as you pulled away, but the real world awaited outside of the utopia the two of you had enclosed yourselves in for the weekend. The two of you sat in silence and your hand found it’s usual spot at the nape of his neck, fingers tangling into the long hair that sat there. Daryl only hummed at the sensation.

“You know,” Daryl began, “When I was younger, before my mom… she used to love messin’ with my hair.” You felt his shoulders tense as he spoke, the memory invoking a pain he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Dad always had Merle shave his head, you know?” He paused. “Because long hair was for pussy’s.” His movements became quicker as he tried to keep focusing on the already too clean crossbow.

“Oh,” You didn’t know what to say. Daryl wasn’t one to open up about his past. All you really knew was that his mom had died in a fire after falling asleep with a cigarette in her mouth and his dad was an abusive prick. His brother was out of the picture and these three things alone were hard enough to get out of him. “What was your mom’s name?” You didn’t want to go too far, praying that he wouldn’t clam up the second the question came out of your mouth but he only smiled softly and looked up at you.

“Mary.” He finally sat the crossbow down beside him, turning towards you and wrapping his arms around your waist as yours snaked around his neck. He leaned his forehead against yours, sighing into your touch while the two of you stayed there, the steadily falling rain keeping you company.

That was before…


End file.
